


Shot Through the Heart

by electriclita



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Jared, Gunplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electriclita/pseuds/electriclita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen's pistol doesn't get used very often thanks to Jared's marksmanship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shot Through the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [授翻 [ shot through the heart/ 在我心上开枪 ]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361360) by [sunshinedark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinedark/pseuds/sunshinedark)



Jared nudges his cheek along the rifle, eyes carefully trained on the man in black. Just like always, Jared listened to Matt's speech about this latest deal but didn't bother to retain the information. His job doesn't require him to know the suits' names or their connections. He only needs to know the one thing they all have in common: nobody survives a shot by Jared Padalecki.

The sun is hot on his back and sweat rolls down his temple, but Jared keeps his focus squarely on the black suit. The rooftop he's on has afforded him a close shot, only a hundred yards. Jared can hit that in his sleep, but won't take any risks. He trusts Matt and his team but when it comes to Jensen's safety nobody will pull a trigger faster than Jared. 

It looks like he won't have to today—he sees Jensen tap his watch twice, then Matt run his fingers down his right sleeve as Rich takes Jensen by the arm to escort him out. Jared's up in seconds, disassembling his rifle and packing it away with practiced precision. He wedges the case into a leather duffel and slips his favorite slouchy beanie over his hair, then makes for the stairs. Once he hits the ground floor nobody gives him a second look. With sunglasses perched on his nose and his casual outfit he's just another pretty guy on the streets of LA.

Jared crosses the street and nods to Matt as he hands off his bag and slides into the silver Audi. Jensen's already inside, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. 

"Successful deal?"

Jensen smiles, shrugs off his suit jacket—grey, his signature color. "How does an extra quarter million on your salary sound?"

Jared laughs. It's an old joke, Jensen offering Jared money he wants nothing to do with. His already ridiculous salary sits in an offshore account rarely drawn from as Jensen pays—or doesn't have to pay, as the case often is—for nearly everything they could possibly need or want.

"You can't afford this," Jared shimmies his hips with a smirk on his face, but welcomes Jensen's lips against his anyway.

\-----

"I don't like this guy, Matt." Jared shifts minutely under the rifle. 

"Me either. Keep sharp," comes Matt's reply over his earpiece. Jared would roll his eyes if he didn't feel the need to keep eyes on today's suit more closely than ever. 

Mere minutes later Jared thanks himself for his vigilance, the suit crumpled on the ground, hand barely on the concealed weapon he'd been reaching for, the wound from Jared's single shot bleeding into the carpet below him. Jared barely spares the seconds to see the security team escorting Jensen away before he's packed and heading downstairs, knot of hair atop his head bouncing with every step as his blood sings, rushing hot through his veins.

The air at ground level is heavy, causing his shirt and jeans to cling, and he welcomes the blast of air conditioning that hits him in the lobby of the hotel. Jared punches his key card in the elevator to unlock the concierge floor and plucks at his shirt on the short ride.

Matt’s standing outside the suite, nods to Jared as he walks up. “Jensen’s not quite finished yet, sent me ahead of them.” He follows Jared inside, heads for the minibar while Jared drags the coffee table right up the couch and spreads the contents of his duffel over it. Matt pours two glasses of seltzer and hands one to Jared. He nods his thanks and then ignores Matt as he focuses on his weapons, dismantling his rifle in seconds for a thorough cleaning. The metal’s still warm, last vestiges of heat sinking into his fingertips.

Jensen walks in, followed by Rob and Rich, as Jared’s busy buffing the gun’s barrel, polishing in precise movements. He wordlessly takes the whiskey Matt offers as he passes by the bar, stopping in front of Jared. There isn’t a lick of blood on him and Jared feels a twang of pride. Jensen might deal with some of the most influential men in the city but Jared’s the only one he wears on his arm.

"Jared." Jensen's voice is gravelly, dark promises in a single word, whiskey swirling in his glass as he chases those two syllables back down his throat. He sets the glass on the tabletop and nods briefly to his team before moving to the French doors of the bedroom. Jared follows silently, closing the doors behind them as Jensen shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of the armchair before reaching for Jared, crushing their bodies together. The fabric of Jensen's clothing is cool in comparison to the heat running under Jared's skin, but his half-mast erection is a perfect twin to Jared's own. 

Jared slides his hands up Jensen's sides, fingers of his right hand dancing over the leather and metal crossing Jensen’s back while Jensen delves into Jared's mouth, hot and persistent as he tugs at Jared's belt. The buckle opens easily under deft fingers, the leather loud across Jared's hips as Jensen whips the belt free. Jared does the same at Jensen’s side, unwrapping the holster from Jensen’s shoulders and laying his gun on the nighstand with it. Jensen pushes up behind him, molding himself against Jared’s back and mouthing at his neck, tongue sneaking licks of Jared’s salted skin.

Jared breaks away long enough to tug his shirt over his head, turning back in the vise of Jensen’s arms, lips and teeth and tongue sliding together as Jensen undoes his jeans, tugs them down over Jared’s hips to fall to the floor and leaves him unabashedly nude. Jensen puts a hand on his chest and pushes Jared backward at arm’s length until his knees hit the bed and falls backward, scooting up so he’s flat on his back. The silky fabric of Jensen's pants brushes sinuously against Jared's skin as he crawls up to sit across Jared's thighs, holding Jared with his weight as he rolls his sleeves to his elbows. 

“You want to get fucked, Jared?” Jensen whispers against the shell of Jared’s ear as he leans up to take the lube from the nightstand opposite his pistol. Jared nods and hears a hint of a dark smile in Jensen’s voice when he adds, “Close your eyes.”

Jared closes his eyes obediently. Jensen trails a single finger down Jared’s cheek, his throat, his navel, all the way down to his leaking, diamond-hard cock. He shudders as Jensen closes his fist and jacks him slowly, smearing precome over the shaft, then suddenly his hand is gone and Jared hears the telltale snick of the lube’s top. He feels Jensen leave the bed, can hear Jensen moving quietly to his right, soft clink of metal, and then Jensen’s back on the bed between his legs—kneeling, Jared would guess by the distribution of weight on the mattress. Jensen’s hand is firm on his thigh as he pushes Jared’s leg up and out, nearly to Jared’s limit, but he holds the position when Jensen’s hand leaves. 

“Beautiful,” Jensen murmurs, and then Jared feels cool metal at the inside of his knee, running up his thigh. His eyes snap open to find Jensen looking straight at him, wicked smirk on those plush lips as a shiver wracks his body. “Gonna fuck you open on this, Jared, get you wet and ready for me.”

Jared’s no stranger to having a gun pulled on him, but this is so far beyond his realm of normal that it sends a thrill over his nerves and steals his voice. Jared’s what some people would call an adrenaline junkie, a thrillseeker: someone who’s forgotten what it’s like to feel afraid. He wonders for a moment if this is Jensen’s way of ending their relationship—professionally and personally—and realizes he has no idea if the safety’s off or if the gun was even unloaded before this. Another shiver works its way down his spine.

“Good.” Jensen’s wicked grin stretches further, perfect white teeth seemingly sharper and more dangerous. “When’s the last time you had a gun on you, Jared?” His voice is a near-whisper, silk over gravel as he trails the gun further up Jared’s thigh, nudging at his hole. When Jared doesn’t respond, he presses a little deeper, a little harder.

“‘S’been a while,” Jared says, incapable of thinking back that far right now.

“Been a while for me, too. You know why?” Jensen doesn’t wait for a response, slides his other hand down to Jared’s hole and says, “I got someone who takes ‘em out before they even make up their minds.”

And then he’s spreading Jared open, blunt fingers stretching him wide. He's loose enough from last night that the muscle barely resists, throat working as he moans into the sensation. Jensen teases, twists, strokes and suddenly Jared’s rim is tugged wider, the muzzle of the gun slipping between Jensen’s spread fingers. The metal is cool where Jensen’s fingers are hot, maddening slide of unforgiving steel on smooth flesh. When he feels the trigger guard nudge his ass Jensen takes away his fingers and his hole clenches around the metal, tight seal of his rim holding it in place.

Jensen hums in appreciation, staring at the place where Jared’s body swallows the gun, trigger guard tucked tight behind his balls, mother-of-pearl grips slick under Jensen’s hand.

“Jensen,” Jared pants, his dick drooling onto his stomach while Jensen rocks the gun ever so gently inside him, “Jensen, _fuck_.” He throws his head back into the pillow. It’s taking all his willpower not to rock back, to take it right to the hilt, scant few inches feeling so much bigger with their unyielding pressure. His blood’s been pumping hot ever since the hit earlier today and he’s ready to have his need fucked out of him, taken down by Jensen, fucked open and wet and used.

Jensen seems to sense his need, rocks the gun, slow for a moment and then faster, slamming the butt into Jared. “Fucking filthy slut, ready to take it any way you can.” He shoves the gun in particularly hard, then orders Jared to hold it. Jared barely manages to disentangle one hand from the sheets, long fingers sliding around the handle while Jensen slips off the bed. He disrobes slowly, deliberately, lust-dark eyes locked with Jared’s while Jared strokes the pearl grips, barely enough pressure to keep the gun from sliding out.

Jensen kneels on the bed again, muscles flexing under freckled skin, dick straining toward his navel, leaking damn near as much as Jared’s. He takes it in hand and Jared nearly moans at the sight, flushed head wrapped in blunt fingers. He squeezes near-imperceptibly as his other hand reaches for Jared’s, reaches for the gun still embedded in him, thrusts it in quick and sharp, fingers interlocked with Jared’s around the handle.

“God, yeah, Jensen, fuck me, _fuck me_ —” Jared gasps and cants his hips in earnest as the gun is withdrawn and replaced by Jensen’s fingers, no time wasted between. Jared’s body sags momentarily with a rush of relief, safety in the knowledge that triggers and bullets are no longer a part of this equation. When Jensen brushes against his prostate Jared arches up, profanity dripping from his open mouth, hands grappling along Jensen’s ribs, knot of hair wild and loose against his face.

“You really want it, don’t you?” Jensen’s voice has gone dark again, rough and low as Jared claws at his arms. “Gimme a minute, Christ,” Jensen plants one hand on Jared’s chest, shoves him flat on the bed.

“Want you to—ah—that’s more like it,” Jared stutters over his words as Jensen twists and scissors inside him, inciting sparks behind his eyes. The soft movement of Jensen’s fingers is a direct contrast to the unyielding stiffness of the gun barrel withdrawn not minutes ago, and more than ever Jared feels every bend, every twist of Jensen’s fingers inside him. He damn near whines at the loss when Jensen draws out, palming the base of his dick while Jensen slicks himself. 

It’s all Jared can do to keep from coming as soon as Jensen pushes inside. His cock is bigger than the gun, hotter too. And it’s attached to a person who knows exactly how to make Jared fall apart. Jensen sets up a punishing rhythm, sliding over Jared’s prostate every other thrust, and even with the fist wrapped tight around the base of his cock Jared can feel his orgasm spiking, pinpricks of light behind his eyes and fizzing across his nerves. Jensen gets his hands under Jared’s ass and _lifts_ , fucking lifts him off the mattress, and that’s it, Jared’s gone, unintelligible syllables falling from his lips, shooting over himself in the face of this perfectly controlled power masked in freckles and green-gold eyes. 

The smirk on Jensen’s face says he knows exactly what he’s done to Jared, but the piston-like movement of his hips says he knows exactly what he’s doing for himself.

It’s not long before he stiffens above Jared as his own climax crests through him, bowing against Jared’s body. He pauses to catch his breath, head hanging between his shoulders, and Jared can't help but reach up to touch those broad planes. Jensen lifts his head and huffs out around a smile, then withdraws and stands, heading into the bathroom to clean up.

Jared's still sprawled on the bed when Jensen comes back into the room, tossing a towel on Jared's chest as he slides into the bed. He grabs Jared's hand as soon as he tosses the towel away, lacing their fingers together as they lay side-by-side, Jensen curled into Jared's warmth. Jensen absently strokes with his thumb, quiet before he states, "Fourth hit."

"Yes," Jared replies simply. 

"Is it enough?" Jensen looks at him with shadowed eyes and Jared realizes it's his forefinger, his trigger finger, that Jensen's been doting on. 

Jared stares at him. He's been all around the world with his guns, hired by everyone from government shadows to crime syndicates. Charmed his way across borders and tumbled into the beds of men and women, rich and poor alike. And yet, in all of his thirty years, Jensen's the only one Jared has ever returned to. 

It’s like Jensen shot him in the heart but instead of dying, he got a second chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this delightful spnkink-meme [prompt](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/98599.html?thread=38110759#t38110759): J1 fucks J2 with a gun. Not picky about why or who's in which position.


End file.
